Fixing Things
by x-juicy-lucy-x
Summary: Ashe confronts Balthier about his feelings for Fran. He sets her straight, and Fran does mechanics. Rated for possible next chapter. Bal/Fran. Please R
1. Chapter 1

"You know she could never feel the same way back." The princess' irritating voice seeped into his mind and disturbed him from the delightful view he had just been taking in. From the glass front of the Strahl he could see Fran on the ground below, bent precariously over the back of the hover bike, which she was attempting to rebuild. She was currently wrestling with a piece of twisted metal, tugging at it in sharp jerks which not only caused her hips and backside to sway enchantingly, but also made her hair flick back and forth like a whip, and he did so love her hair, especially when she took it down, which was rarely, and usually only if he made her.

"Well… you do, don't you?" She snapped at him again, and all pretence he had been maintaining that he could not hear her had to be swept aside. He wasn't sure what she was getting at, but he was instantly irritated. What right had she to interfere where she was clueless? When did she earn the privilege of being self-righteous? Perhaps it was a royalty thing, he decided, as he lifted his head from his hand and turned his body in her direction, arching one eyebrow.

"Princess, are you feeling well?" He enquired, feigning a look of puzzled concern. Clearly his skills as leading man were not in question, for she looked somewhat taken aback by his expression, shook her head, then tried again.

"Fran. You know she will never feel for you what you feel for her." She frowned slightly, looking at him as she sometimes did Vaan when he said something particularly stupid, and he wondered whether she had manufactured this look for him, or if her face merely formed clichés of expression through sheer habit.

"Ah, I see what you're driving at." He sat back into his pilot's chair, ran a hand through his hair, looked at the multitude of buttons on the panels before him. "And what exactly do I feel for her? Since you're so knowledgeable of my thoughts and feelings, My Lady." He layered sarcasm on the title, tilted his head to look her in the eye defiantly. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"Well It's obvious to everyone that you're besotted with her. You're hopelessly in love…" She waved a hand dismissively "Oh, not real love, of course, you're completely unable to feel such things, but you want her. You love her body." She had paced whilst giving this speech, her hands speaking as much as her words, but stopped finally to turn to him, and look him in the eye. With genuine shock, he realised she was being sincere. That she actually thought Fran was going to hurt him somehow if he carried on what she assumed was a tragic one-sided obsession with an unobtainable Viera. "She doesn't want you back. How could she?"

"Oh." He made a show of looking dejected, but it just couldn't last. He began to find himself cross with her. "Do you mean because I'm hideous? Or because she's a Viera?" He pondered, mimicking her own hand gestures as he did so. "Well, obviously you can't mean that I'm hideous because, well, look at me, fine leading man material. You must mean it's because she's a Viera… And what about that would deem her incapable of returning my 'lust'? The fact that she is incapable of lusting? Or that she is of another species?"

"I…" She had the decency to redden then. Her shoulders falling inwards slightly. "I merely meant…" She looked at the floor. "It is not possible for a Viera to love a Hume."

"Not _possible_?" He rolled the words around. "No really, would it be possible for her to love something else? A Bangaa say? Or a Garif? Better still, something more similar to her own species… What about a Wyrdhare? Could Fran lust after one of those?" He arched himself over the arm of the chair towards her as she spoke, watching her flinch with each new potential suitor he mentioned.

"You're being ridiculous. I was only trying to warn you…"

"No, Princess," He interrupted, realizing that perhaps he was being slightly hard on her. "You were being racist." He softened, slid from the chair to a standing position, sloped over to her, close enough to smell her anxiety. "But it's ok, I used to be like it too. Snobbery happens." She gasped and looked up at him, mouth slightly open, cheeks red with a mixture of shame and anger. "So you don't think it can work for me and Fran?" he sighed.

This distracted her. She glanced out of the window to Fran below, who had now been joined by Basch, who was handing her tools, and, if Balthier was not mistaken, being hypnotised by the slow sway of her breasts as she bent over the now straight piece of metal, and attempted to fasten it into place. Ashe sighed, looked back to the Sky Pirate, her face flooded with sympathy.

"I'm sorry, but no…" Her voice was gentle, barely audible over the hum of the air filtration system.

"What a shame…" He mused, gazing out of the window himself now, if only to make sure that Basch didn't make a move. With a smirk and a quirk of his brow, he turned to face her again, "How do you suppose it's been working for five years already then?"

"You mean… The two of you… Already?" The news seemed to genuinely shock her, and Balthier relished in the feeling of revealing a plot twist to the uninformed.

"Ashelia Dalmasca… do you mean to tell me that in the weeks we have spent travelling together you have not once noticed that Fran and I always share a room? Or that when we camp, we have the same tent, or even that when we sleep under the stars we share a bedroll?" He laughed, then, not maliciously, of course, the leading man is nothing if not kind. "I suppose we don't go around declaring our undying love for each other as you do for you late Prince… But believe me, Princess, my love for Fran goes much deeper than her skin. I can't imagine this life without her. She is my partner in everything… And I'm fairly sure she feels the same way towards me. Either that or she's a much better actress than I thought… And we can't have that now, can we? The leading man must never be upstaged!" His triumphant grin was momentarily infectious, and he caught the hint of a smile across her face before she settled into her customary mark of petulant outrage.

"Well… I'm happy for you." She managed to get the words out in a normal, if somewhat strained tone, before turning on heel and sweeping out of the room. Balthier watched her go with a smirk, knowing that she would come and apologise later, once the feeling of stupidity subsided. He turned back to the window, noting that Basch seemed to have disappeared somewhere, and that Fran was now polishing the piece which she had successfully re-attached. Humming to himself happily, he hopped out of the flight room, down the ramp, and across the seemingly deserted forecourt to the area Fran had chosen as a workspace.

She knew he was there, he assumed, because she always did, but she felt no need to show the fact. She continued to polish, her hand moving in uniform circles across the metal, leaving the spaces she had attended to gleaming, the areas yet to be touched dull and grimy. He found her captivating, and spend a few moments just taking her in, until he noticed a smudge of grease on her left cheek. Smiling he crouched down on the opposite side of the bike to her, and reached across to wipe the smudge away with his thumb. She ceased her actions and brought her eyes up to meet his.

"You are troubled." It was more of a statement than a question, and not for the first time, Balthier wondered if she really could read minds. He gave her a small, but sincere smile.

"Ashe says you don't love me." he murmured, and realised to his own chagrin how boyish he sounded. How all of his insecurities could be summed up by that sentence alone. She simply continued to look him in the eye, and he remembered suddenly why she was the only person he could ever have said that to. She just made him… Comfortable. Smiling more widely, he leaned forward over the bike, and pressed his lips to hers softly, but definitely. She responded, barely, tilted her head, and he felt her own smile grow against his. When he pulled back, her eyes were warm.

"Ashe does not know anything." One side of her mouth quirked upwards, and she leaned forwards to capture his lips again in a reassuringly soft kiss. "However, should you make a mark on my freshly polished hover bike, you will no longer be alive for me to love or not love." She grinned impishly then, and Balthier knew that she loved him, because only he could make her do that. Feigning complete nonchalance, he looked at the thumb which had wiped the grease from her face, looked back to Fran, and smiled.

Slowly and deliberately, he lowered his thumb to the metalwork, his eyes never leaving hers. When his thumb hit the cold surface, he made a comedic gasp, before looking down to his task. With equal deliberation, he trailed his thumb slowly across the gleaming metal to write 'Bal'. Upon running out of 'ink', he reached up to dip his index finger into a slick of grease which had deposited itself between Fran's collarbones. She watched him, her expression a mixture of amusement and fury, as he returned to the bike, and wrote 'Fran' next to the abbreviation of his name. Finally, he drew a smudgy, greasy heart around the two names, and finished with a flourish.

"There." He declared. "My first official act of graffiti!" He looked up at Fran, and his face fell to a look of dread at her expression.

"And it shall be your last." She growled. Before he could react, she threw herself over the bike and onto him, toppling him onto his back, and pinning him down. "You asked for it, Sky Pirate." She hissed, reaching for the can of oil which was near them. "Now your pretty hair and tailored shirt pay the price!" She raised the can above her head as she might a deadly weapon, and Balthier jumped at the chance to play his part.

"No, please!" He groaned. "Anything but my hair and clothes! Please, show some mercy!" He wriggled as a token gesture, not trying too hard to escape, but knowing that even if he did, he had no chance. Fran tilted her head back and let out a peal of laughter, which went right to Balthier's core. Breathlessly, she leaned in close to his face.

"I have no mercy." She purred, before pointing the oilcan square at his heart. "Any last words?"

"Yes…" He chuckled, just as breathless. "God save Vayne Solidor!"

"Oho!" She cried, and then, roaring with laughter, deposited the entire bottle of oil over his torso. Not satisfied with this, she slicked some onto her palm, and scuffed it through his cropped hair, delighting in his muffled cries of protest. Finally pleased with her work, she allowed herself to flop down and rest her head on his filthy chest, one of her ears twitching in amusement.

"I'll have you know that your ear is tickling my nose." Balthier said as indignantly as he could manage, under the circumstances, and whilst stifling a giggle.

"Well I'll have you know you smell like a moogle." She countered, lifting herself on one elbow to peer down at him, her eyes dancing.

"Well, so do you." Balthier grinned, tilting his face up towards her, then turning it away and wrinkling his nose. "Disgusting. Filthy." He held his nose daintily with two fingers. "I mean, anyone would think you were an _animal_ or something!"

Fran batted him playfully with the back of a clawed hand. "I believe…" She purred, "that a bath is in order."

"I believe, dear Fran, that you may be right." He forced himself to stand up, and offered her a hand. Together, dripping a trail of grease, they made their way towards the Strahl. When they reached the doorway, Fran paused and tilted her head.

"Balthier." She said his name only to ensure she had his full attention. He hummed in reply. "Don't ever listen to Ashe."

**Author's Note**: For some reason I forgot to add this last night, but ehy-ho, here it is now. Anyway, this is my first plunge into the depths of Final Fantasy XII's fandom, so any advice would be greatly appreciated. This idea kind of formed itself in my head late last night and refused to go away, so I sort of cranked it out in an hour before bed. Hopefully that explains why it might be a bit rough around the edges. Anyway, let me know if anyone would like to see the next chapter, which may or may not involve Fran, Balthier, and bath bubbles. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Ok, so here's the smut to complete the story, hope you enjoy. Please read and review, I;d love to hear if you enjoyed it.

Leaving their telltale trail of oil droplets, Fran and Balthier stumbled their way towards the ship's bathroom. Balthier had fitted it shortly before meeting Fran, since his sense of personal hygiene and the normal life of a sky pirate did not necessarily match up, and he felt it prudent to take regular long baths or showers. It was a large space which was watertight and had a natural drainage area in the centre of the floor just in case any water was sloshed about during the Strahl's flights. There was an impressively large bath in one corner, with a showerhead overhanging it. Humming contentedly, despite his current state, and the dubious future of his beloved vest, Balthier inserted the plug in the bath and turned on the taps, adjusting the temperature to the desired level.

"You know, the others will be in uproar over this?" He mused, turning to face Fran, and being enchanted by the way the oil was smudged over her face, limbs and torso, and the small speckles of it which clung to the fine fur of her ears.

"Indeed. Vaan will comment that we are more like the adolescents than he and Penello, and Basch will say that I have wasted oil." She smirked at him as she reached past to deposit some sweet smelling bubble mixture into the running water, which immediately began to foam up and emit an enchanting aroma.

"Actually I meant the fact that they are now certain of the status of our relationship. As far as I can tell, before they had merely speculated as to whether or not we were… An item, shall we say…" The amusement was evident in his voice, despite the fact that Fran could not see his face, for she had turned around to allow him access to the clasps of her body armour, which he was now deftly unbuckling, with practiced movements.

"Are we an item?" She asked it challengingly, but Balthier knew she was teasing, and merely replied by standing on tiptoe to close his teeth around the edge of her right ear and tug at it gently. "Ha!" She chuckled, revealing her one ticklish weakness. "Perhaps we are boyfriend and girlfriend?" She asked teasingly, turning to face him as her armour dropped to the floor, leaving her in only her high heels and leg armour. Grinning, Balthier bent down on one knee to remove those too.

"Fran, please. Though we may act like adolescents, we are not in our teens. Lovers, perhaps, but I don't think anyone in their right mind would refer to you as a girl." The wretched heels finally came off, and Balthier cast them aside, discarding his own vest and skirt in a similar direction as he rose.

"A couple then?" She questioned, mirth shining in her eyes as she trailed her claws down his grease-covered chest and to his belt. He groaned.

"A partnership." reaching up to grip the back of her head, he pulled her down into a kiss forceful enough to curl her toes.

"Mmmmh. A partnership." She agreed as their lips parted, sighing contentedly whilst simultaneously divesting him of his trousers. He had, she noticed, neglected to wear underwear today, but this was not so unusual for Balthier. She glanced towards the bath, which was filling nicely. "Check it's not too cold?" she nodded her head towards the water so he would understand her meaning, and he turned and bent to dip his hand below the foam.

"It's perfect." He reached to shut the taps of, and Fran admired the curve of his calf as he stretched, her eyes following it up to where it became the back of his knee, then further, past his buttocks to the plains of his back and shoulders. The faint marks of her nails were still on his skin from their last encounter. It had been over a week, but then again, it was quite intense. Perhaps she had gripped him harder than she meant to. She resolved not to mark him this time, knowing that he didn't mind, but not wishing to cause him any pain. When he straightened and turned to her, she smiled, and he offered her a hand. "Join me?"

"Pleased to." She purred, placing her hand in his and stepping into the bath with him.

"Fran!" He chuckled "How much bubble stuff did you put in here? We'll never breathe!" He exclaimed, flicking some of the bubbles up at her. She chuckled and flicked some back. She had to admit she had been a bit overzealous… the bubbles easily reached her thigh, whilst the water was stopping just below her knee.

"I'm sure we'll be doing more important things than breathing." She murmured suggestively, and that made him shut his mouth and pull her down into the water with a splash. Laughing, she landed in his lap, relishing the feeling of his skin on hers for a moment before she found her lips under attack from his wicked tongue. Purring contentedly, she opened her mouth to him, kissing him back energetically and carding one hand through his hair, the other resting around his shoulders.

"You really are sticky." He complained, kissing his way along her jaw line to suck on her pulse point. She made a small noise in the back of her throat by way of reply, and moved to straddle him, her own mouth leaving ghost-kisses on his shoulder.

"So scrub me clean." She purred, arching her back as his thumbs glanced across her hip bones _just so_.

"With pleasure." He mumbled, and reached for a sponge which he began using to clean her, whilst somehow teasing her at the same time. She whimpered softly as the rough material tortured the muscles of her abdomen, tilting her head back, and arching towards him, then gasped and jumped as his tongue appeared from nowhere to lazily circle one of her nipples, only to be instantly replaced with the harsher feeling of the sponge on the other, and his cool breath blowing on her skin. She shuddered and clung to his back.

"Cruel, you are." She moaned as he finished her front, and pulled her flush with his chest so he could start on her back.

"Oh, sorry, I thought this was what you asked for?" He breathed seductively. "Was there something else you wanted?" He asked, dipping the sponge lower to swipe at the area where her tail would be if she had one.

"You know very well, Hume." She growled, impatient already, before snagging the sponge herself and setting to work scrubbing his chest a little harder than she ought.

"Oh!" he grunted in surprise, "Careful with that." He hissed when she grazed over one of his nipples. "Alright, alright, if I give you what you want do you promise to be a little nicer with that _weapon_ of yours?" He gestured at the sponge and gave her puppy dog eyes.

"Deal." She purred, lips close to his ear, before her teeth found an earring and tugged on it lightly. He gasped at the feeling, then groaned as her tongue snaked out to trace the shell of his ear. Eager to fulfil his side of the bargain, he slid his right hand from where it had been resting on Fran's thigh upwards and across her flat stomach before making his way teasingly down towards the thatch of tight curls which was his goal. Fran hummed appreciatively, and began to clean his back much more gently, still toying with his ear. She had a fascination with Hume ears, they were so small and cute, she couldn't help trying her teeth on them, and it never failed to elicit a pleasant reaction from Balthier. Her smugness was quickly cast aside, however, as Balthier's fingers found their way into her folds and began to efficiently massage her bud in agonisingly slow circles. She mewled and bucked her hips towards him, desperately seeking more friction, and he brought his free hand to the back of her head, tilting her face to draw her in for a searing kiss.

"Good?" He asked smugly, smirking into her mouth, and despite being on the border of failing to form words, she managed to reply.

"Mmmh. Glad you used the hand with no rings. More." Happy to oblige, Balthier shifted his hand lower, his fingers now dipping inside her, and she made a beautiful noise which was somewhere between a sob and his name. He could have come then and there, but decided that the occasion warranted more effort on his part, and instead began to pump two fingers in and out of her core with a dedication he only matched when flying his ship.

"Better?" He asked, unable to kiss her mouth because her face had fallen to his shoulder, so leaving butterfly kisses on the edge of her ear instead. The only reply he got was her teeth on his shoulder, the nails of her left hand in the small of his back, and the satisfaction of her right hand finally slipping between then to wrap around his decidedly aching cock. "Ah." he sighed, leaning back to rest his head on the side of the back, his hips bucking into her hand as she pumped him, fingers twitching convulsively in her, causing her to cry out sublimely and arch herself up, pushing down onto his hand shamelessly. "You carry on doing that and there'll be no main entertainment this evening." He groaned into her ear, breathing laboured.

"Mmh. Stop talking." She chided, eyes closed in concentration, lips slightly parted. Her grip on his cock relaxed, though, and he found himself better bale to concentrate on her completion. Never missing a beat with his right hand, he flipped them so she was resting on the side of the tub before taking a deep breath, and submerging himself into the water, darting out his tongue to tease her alongside his hand. This proved too much for Fran to resist, and she uttered a guttural cry of "Balthier!" convulsing delightfully around him. He surfaced with a grin on his face, finger still working inside of her to bring her down gently from her orgasm, and moved close to cradle her to him.

"Satisfied?" He asked with a lopsided grin when she finally opened her eyes to peer up at him.

"For the moment." She purred, fixing him with a critical gaze. "There is oil in your hair." She noted.

"Oh? Really?" He feigned surprise. "I wonder how that got there?" This made her chuckle, and she swatted him with the back of her hand, before reaching for some shampoo to massage into it. He purred under her ministrations, allowing her to rinse off the suds, leaving his hair respectfully clean. "Yours is a mess too, I'm afraid. Shall I?" He gestured to the bottle and she poured a generous amount into his hand before reaching up to remove the clip from her hair. He massaged the soap in and helped her to rinse it, all the while trying to ignore his painfully persistent erection. When it brushed against her thigh, she smiled coyly.

"I had almost forgotten this." She grinned, wrapping her hand around it again and pumping experimentally, forcing a growl from his throat.

"How could such a thing be possible?" he asked, mustering as much mock indignance as he could, whilst thrusting his hips up into her hand and whimpering slightly.

"I apologise profusely." She countered in a surprisingly good impression of a lady of the Archadian gently. "Would sir be so kind as to accept my apology and give me a sound fucking by way of reprimand?" She continued, and if he hadn't been so close to coming, Balthier would have laughed at the sound of it.

"Well, I suppose it would be the done thing." He retorted before lunging at her and claiming her lips. She grunted in surprise, before accepting him, one of her legs coming to wrap around his waist, her hand encouraging his cock towards her opening. "Dear god Fran, you will be the death of me!" He groaned into her mouth as he slid home and her other leg somehow managed to negotiate itself around and over his shoulder of its own accord. "How…. But _how_ are you so flexible?" He mumbled, beginning a well rehearsed pattern of deep, purposeful thrusts which made her extremities curl in pleasure, and tore ragged moans from her throat, which he greedily consumed with his mouth on hers.

She hadn't the presence of mind to answer because his cock was filling her and it was perfect and too much, and not enough and there, just there. She clawed at his back again unwittingly, fortunately not leaving any lasting marks, then howled as he brought her other leg up over his shoulder, driving himself deeper than before and angling directly towards that spot inside her that had her seeing chocobos. She could feel her release building inside her, and knew he was close too because his breathing against her cheekbones was ragged and uneven, and she could feel his length pulse inside her. She shifted once more, and suddenly everything fell away, and all she was aware of was a perfect soaring feeling, and the press of his cock inside her. She tumbled lazily back to earth as he shuddered through the last of his own orgasm, collapsed onto her chest and twitching within her walls. Smiling, she cradled him to her, huffing slightly when he darted out his tongue to trace her nipple, and laughing as he shifted up to look at her, before blowing away a particle of foam which had settled on the end of her nose.

"Have I ever told you that you are a remarkable, beautiful woman, and I love you?" He asked sappily, and she blushed despite her years.

"Once or twice." She murmured, pulling his head down to her shoulder and settling her arms around him comfortably. "And I too love you. Now hush."

"Mmmh." He replied. "S'pose we should get out…" He snuggled closer to her, arm winding around her waist.

"All in good time." She replied, having no intention of moving for the next half an hour. "All in good time."


End file.
